Bloody Ministry
by Suicidal Button
Summary: ' So I’m here, facing a counsellor who doesn’t care, thoughts drifting off as he attempts to goad me into listening to him.' Harry's worst fear. SeamusHarry


**Disclaimer:** I don't own it.

**For Fanfiction contest #1 **

**Prompt: **A characters greatest fear

**Pairing: **Seamus/Harry

* * *

"So then Harry, what is your worst fear?" he asked, leaning forward on his formal black chair, looking interested. I stared at him for a moment before looking away. Like I would ever tell him. He didn't even care.

"Harry?" he prodded in a 'concerned' voice. I sneered at him, looking towards the corner of the room where, in the ceiling, an invisible camera was set up, lest I try to attack him. Like I'd be stupid enough to do that. People might think I'm completely brain dead, but I'm not. In fact, I'm alive in here, I think and figure things out.

But the Ministry doesn't want that. Why would they? I destroyed Voldermort, and they realised the magnitude of my power. So they locked away all that magic using this stupid collar around my neck, and pretended that Dumbledore had leant me power to kill Voldermort.

Of course, Dumbledore can't deny this. They locked him away, too. Said he's too old, too frail to deal with his power. So now he's in a cell, covered with wards to keep his magic inside. A simple collar won't work for him.

I went to see him once. He was dead to the world. His blue eyes stared at me dully as I tried to make conversation, tried to ignore the lost twinkle, the forgotten smile.

I didn't get far. Dumbledore asked me to leave. He knew how upset I was getting, and wanted to save me the pain. I hugged him. He hugged back.

Never saw him again. They wouldn't let me. I begged, pleaded with them. They added my 'irrational' anger and then the breakdown to the list of problems wrong with me.

Bloody ministry.

So I'm here, facing a counsellor who doesn't care, thoughts drifting off as he attempts to goad me into listening to him. He's tried everything. First he was stern, then too sweet, then angry, and now he's false, pretending to be concerned.

Moron.

"We all have a worst fear, Harry. It's okay to talk about them," said he. My mind drifted off again. Worst fear?

Now that's a tough one. I have many fears. I used to be terrified that I would live with the Dursley's until I was eighteen, which seemed like a lifetime for a child my age.

I found out about Hogwarts, and for a while I had no fears. Then Voldermort struck, and I was terrified of him.

I hid it, but Dumbledore could see. He called me to his office and told me that I had every right to be afraid, that Voldermort was terrifying and dangerous, and that occasionally even Dumbledore himself got scared. He said that I was brave to hide it, brave to face the evil bastard, but that if I wanted to talk, our friendly old headmaster was always there to help.

I never did talk.

Maybe that's the reason? The reason why, when I finally took Voldermort down, my power just exploded? I had never talked about my emotions. Only once. With Luna. She's a good soul. She came to visit me once, to tell me that Ginny was still mourning for me, still doing everything to get me out, that her husband Dean was helping. To tell me that Ron was recovering from Hermione's death, and trying to start dating again. He'd shown interest in Luna, the complete opposite of Hermione. That was good. It wouldn't do for Ron to date another Hermione.

Then Luna also told me about Him. He was doing well, she said. Coping. Still trying to get me out, bribing, using contacts underground. I ordered Luna to stop Him doing anything illegal.

She went.

I was alone.

Now I'm rambling again. I do that a lot. I think the absence of my magic has affected me more than I'm willing to admit. Then again, any witch or wizard with no magic would have been affected. Most would have gone insane. Like Dumbledore.

None of this is helping me figure out my worst fear from the others. I think I know what it is anyway. it's been my secret fear from the moment I first started my relationship with Him.

He's amazing. I love Him so much. He can't visit me. The Ministry know about our relationship, says He'll attempt to hinder my progress.

Not that I'm really making any.

If I was, would I really be sitting here, ignoring my 'help'?

"Harry, for Merlin's sake just…answer the question?" counsellor Sprit pleaded, much to my amusement. I didn't want to help him out here. Really, why would I? He was a wanker through and through, always suggesting that I'm still incompetent to the Ministry when he thinks I'm not listening, thinking he knows best.

But he'll get fired. I know that. He's made no progress with breaking me, like he was supposed to. He's payed to get me to talk about everything bad, to relive it over and over until I just don't want to live anymore, until I'm curled up in a ball in my oh-so-comfy room.

Like Dumbledore.

He broke. How did I only just realise this? He broke. I'm stronger than him. I'm still fighting strong. But he's not. He couldn't.

My eyes filled with tears and I looked down. Wouldn't do any good for him to think he sparked any emotion in me. Git.

"Look, Harry… I'll let one of your friends come and see me if you tell me," he suddenly said. My head snapped up, my blank green eyes boring into him, making him squirm.

"You'll what?" I asked, voice hoarse but deadly. It was the first time I'd spoke in days. He relaxed, realising that he could get me to talk.

"I'll give you a slip for the next visiting day, to let one of your friends in. Ron Weasley, perhaps? Or that nice Lovegood?"

"Seamus," was my immediate reply. Sprit looked up from where he was writing a crappy little slip and sighed. I slumped. It had been worth a shot.

"You know he's not allowed. We've discussed this. He'll hinder your progress. So, who will it be?" Sprit asked, continuing to write.

"Ron," I finally conceded. I hadn't seen him in months. I rarely was allowed visitors. Sprit nodded.

"That's more like it," he finished the slip and handed it to me. When I reached for it, he yanked it back, gaze stern.

"Co-operate with me first," he commanded. I nodded, and the slip was set on the table in the middle of us. If I went for it, I'd be unconscious before you could say 'blackmail,'.

"So, tell me, what's your worst fear?" asked he, like he hadn't been bugging me for the past fifteen minutes. I sighed, looking away. What should I tell him? He'd know if I lied.

"Loneliness," I finally said, not looking at him. "I'm so scared of being lonely." He nodded, like he understood. How could he understand? He had a wife and two children at his bloody home, in his bloody perfect village, who he could return to at the end of this bloody 'stressful' day, to eat and laugh and read with.

And here I was, stuck in a crappy Ministry asylum.

"Tell me more about that."

"I'm lonely every friggin' day," I said, voice cold. "Yet I'm still terrified of actually being lonely… not the kind of alone having no-one around. I'm scared of knowing that…" I paused. He sat up straighter, thinking he'd made some sort of breakthrough. Wanker. It was all a friggin' show. Of course he hadn't made a breakthrough.

My real fear? My real fear is of Seamus… of him catching the aftermath of this damn finished war. Of a death eater finishing him off for revenge on me. Of the Ministry going after him so that they'll know he's gone for good.

A pretty basic, common fear, right? Of my loved one dying. Everyone has this fear.

It should be obvious that that's what it was. Not this drivel of being oh-so-lonely. Because I know I'm not lonely.

I have Seamus. My husband. Even if I'll never see him again. Even if our next meeting will be when I'm dead. He's with me. In my heart. 

That's what I told myself as I was walked back to my room. As I sat down on my bed. As I got up, locked the door and pulled out the wand I had nabbed from my Counsellor.

That Seamus would be with me. That he would never be gone.

Because, selfish as it sounded, I was the one to go first.

Looks like I wasn't going to see Ron for visitors day.

"_Avada Kedavra_," 

I was weak, right? Just like Dumbledore, I was weak. He broke under the strain of having no magic, no communication with anything.

But in my opinion, I didn't break. Suicide was my rebellion. My damn rebellion against the damn Ministry for daring to lock me away, away from Seamus.

Bloody Ministry.

* * *

**Admitedly strange. Don't ask what inspired it. But I like it. What about you guys?**


End file.
